


Vitreous Hemorrhage

by Spot_On60



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team (TV), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spot_On60/pseuds/Spot_On60
Summary: For all his whining and complaining, Face actually has the patience of a saint. TV or 2010, your choice.





	Vitreous Hemorrhage

Something had clattered to the floor in the adjoining room. The noise immediately followed by an exclamation, “Shit!”

Murdock looked to Face who only shrugged his shoulders in response.

“How much longer,” the pilot asked quietly.

“Tonight,” Face said just as low, followed by a sigh.

Enthusiastic as ever, Murdock added, “Well that’s soon.”

Only three words were the reply, spoken softly but with great effort, “Not. Soon. Enough.”

The next noise was definitely one of fracture, the contradictory singular sound of multiple pieces exploding outward from a central contact point. “Fuck!”

Murdock’s head spun toward the source. He was halfway to standing when Face spoke again, “Sit down.”

“But...” He was frozen in mid-rise, knees bent at a half squat, chest forward, back straight, questioning eyes on the Lieutenant.

“Sit down. It’s for your own good.”

Slowly lowering himself back down to the seat cushion, Murdock watched Face warily. Face in turn watched Chris Kimball who was watching Bridget Lancaster create what was promised to be the perfect pie crust on America’s Test Kitchen. He took a pull from his beer, refusing to glance at the other man in the room.

Every muscle, every bit of sinew in the Captain’s body was taut as he listened while more items obviously tumbled to the floor capped by, “Damn it!”

“Shouldn’t we....?”

“No.” The bottle of beer was once again raised to Face’s lips as he resolutely refused to take his eyes away from the TV.

Scraping and the occasional knocking could be heard with what was the unmistakable short scuffing sound of a chair pushed along a floor. And there was grumbling, lots of grumbling.

“We can’t just...” But he was cut off mid-thought.

“I’ll take care of it later. If you’re worried keep your shoes on.” Face recognized the familiar sound and knew it wasn’t glass, at least not this time.

Murdock’s head whipped around again this time to the echo of the garage acoustics filtering to where he sat like a coiled spring ready to take vertical flight. He could hear BA speak.

“You need a hand there Hannibal?”

The retort was swift and sharp, “No.”

“Just let me...” BA continued.

“I said I don’t need to be waited on,” the Colonel barked.

BA came around the corner. Taking one look at Murdock he wisely chose to sit beside Face on the couch. “He’s cranky.”

Face didn’t respond. Why belabor the obvious?

“What are they makin’?” the Sergeant asked.

“Pie.”

“Easy as pie, huh?”

“Turns out that’s not true.”

BA and Murdock’s attention were drawn to the commotion oddly reminiscent of bumper pool going on in the doorway to the kitchen. Face pretended the most important step in the construction of the apple pie was at hand. Hannibal managed to enter the room.

With an aggravated huff he made a beeline for the stairs to the upper bedrooms. Taking long strides across the room he was at full propulsion when he hit the wall, missing the staircase by a full three feet.

Murdock’s hand had gone up as he witnessed the Colonel’s trajectory, but was only able to emit a squeak which was mostly drowned out by the CO’s own pronouncement. “Fuck!”

Murdock shot a look to Face who shook his head ‘ _no_.’

Murdock’s expression changed to a defiant ‘ _just try and stop me_.’

Face lightly quirked his lips, shaking his head ‘ _go ahead, your funeral_.’ He closed his eyes as he directed his head once more to the TV. Opening them again he’d washed his hands of any responsibility. He’d warned him, warned both of them when they’d called. Besides, the pastry creation was coming out of the oven. The big reveal was up next and no, he wasn’t going to miss it. Both BA and Murdock were up out of their seats. “Fools,” he mumbled to himself.

Hannibal was bellowing his objections accompanied by the sounds of scrambling, and Face was surprised by his genuine admiration of the staggering beauty of the Mile High, deep dish, apple pie. The pieces served were nothing short of magnificent. A veritable pile of apple slices took nothing away from an unimaginably flaky crust infused with sharp Wisconsin cheddar. His mouth was watering as the thought skipped through his mind that he may just have to give it a try. But it was wiped out by the return of the muscleman and pilot, both looking sheepish after the tongue lashing they’d just received.

“Man is he ornery!” BA complained.

“I was just trying to help,” Murdock added crestfallen.

“He been like that since he got home?” BA asked Face.

The credits were rolling on America’s Test Kitchen. Face looked directly at BA and said in a flat voice, “Today was a good day.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Face confirmed.

“What’s it called again?” This from Murdock.

“Vitreous hemorrhage.”

“When do the bandages come off his eyes?” BA was standing now with fists on hips.

“Tonight.”

“I gotta hand it to ya, Faceman,” Murdock began. “I don’t know I’d still be sitting here if I’d had to deal with that for the past four days.”

“May have left him to himself,” BA added.

“He’s proud,” Murdock offered.

“He’s used to being the one in control, taking care of us,” BA noted charitably. “Gotta be hard losing control like that.”

Contemplating the wisdom of their words, BA and Murdock both visibly startled upon hearing their CO shouting for Face. The man being summoned stood, but before turning to climb the stairs to see what Hannibal wanted he added his thoughts to the mix. “He’s a big baby.”

“That maybe true...,” Murdock said as he stood, stark and upright. “... But he’s our baby.”

Face just rolled his eyes and sighed as the sound of his name again being called was broken off by a loud thump.

“Coming, Hannibal,” Face said with a sigh more to himself than anyone else in the house.

*********************

From H/F group prompt fest 

LB’s prompt - I love a good cliche, but let's turn one upside down: there are some great blind Face stories, but I don't remember ever seeing a blind Hannibal story - anyone up for the challenge?


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